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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28575636">lost in your orbiting</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/caratcake/pseuds/caratcake'>caratcake</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Specific Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:47:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,473</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28575636</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/caratcake/pseuds/caratcake</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The day before ascending Mt. Gulg, the Exarch shares an illuminating conversation with the Warrior of Darkness.</p><p>(He finds that his closely guarded secrets are not as secret as he had thought.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch &amp; Warrior of Light, G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>lost in your orbiting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frostglitch/gifts">Frostglitch</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i started this over a year ago at which point i hadn’t written for three years. one year later i rewrite and finally finish it for frost bc they finished shb. raise your hand if you are also a writer that doesn’t write 🤪 we exist</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been intended as a brief moment to himself to ready for the morrow.</p><p>The breeze from the Kholusian sea had beckoned him outside, and he had meant for it to be nothing more than a breath of respite wherein he could reflect in solitude. But distance from the tower and his earlier adventuring both had taxed him, and so he had lain against the boulders along the cliff edge, hidden from the roaming beasts, and closed his eyes beneath the unending light.</p><p>He is not sure if a full bell has passed when he wakes. But as he is roused from his light doze, he meets the gaze of the Warrior of Darkness.</p><p>Altair offers a soft smile from where he kneels. “Good morning, sleeping beauty.”</p><p><em> That </em> is certainly one way to be rid of sleep. The Exarch chokes on a gasp, and he looks away as he clears his throat. Even now, he finds himself thrown by Altair’s words at times… </p><p>“Are you all right?”</p><p>Though he is still smiling, the Exarch can see the worry writ in his gaze. He knows his concern is not for the coughing fit. “... Yes, I am quite all right. I simply meant to rest a moment, though it would seem I am more fatigued than I realized.”</p><p>Casual conversation flows seamlessly with the ease of companionship. One might even call it comfortable.</p><p>Though the specifics of his body’s state are not exactly a lighthearted topic, it has been years since he has felt a need, or rather openness, to discuss it. It’s a kind of ease with another that he has not felt in many years. Most of all, to simply have this moment alone with Altair...</p><p>Altair, the hero. The bringer of light and darkness both. A friend.</p><p>“Come, sit with me.”</p><p>One small moment more, he decides. To remember a hero, a friend, in his final moments. For closure.</p><p>Altair moves to sit beside him, pressing against the rock and the Exarch both. He stifles a surprised jolt at the sudden contact. There’s a phantom feeling of warmth, even despite the layers of cloth and armor between them.</p><p>(He thinks back to a distant memory, of a team impishly named NOAH gathered together to discover the secrets of the tower, of a younger man and his hero conversing under the blanket of night and stars, and he tries not to lean back.)</p><p>“And what will <em> you </em> do when this is over?”</p><p>Altair’s question is accompanied by a grin. The Exarch pauses. “When this is over…”</p><p>What comes after is not something he had considered deeply. Or at least not in full, nothing beyond fanciful daydreams, due to the nature of his plan. The intended conclusion meant it was rather easier to avoid thinking too deeply about such things, impossible as they are.</p><p>And yet he <em> had </em> considered it. Fanciful musings though they may be, he has indeed entertained the “what-ifs” of him surviving the ordeal, being free to explore as he wished, mayhap sharing a journey with his friend and inspiration…</p><p>Everything he has planned hinges on maintaining secrecy. <em> But surely, this much is allowed? </em></p><p>He keeps his eyes forward, gaze fixed on the horizon where sea meets sky as he speaks. He can feel the warrior’s gaze on him.</p><p>Altair is quiet as he listens, unknowing of the depth of what he feels. Oblivious to the fact it is <em> he </em> that the Crystal Exarch speaks of, but no less attentive a companion.</p><p>The desire to simply tell him is overwhelming. But he cannot. He knows what he must do, his role to play. He is but the messenger carrying the hope of those that wished to save a hero. This plan has been hundreds of years in the making, and he would not, <em> could </em> not, risk it all for a personal, selfish wish.</p><p>(But he hopes that, mayhap, he will be remembered…)</p><p>The Exarch finishes his tale, and he tells himself that he is content. It will all end tomorrow. This one conversation, this moment in time between the two of them, is the final, selfish wish of his granted in the face of what he must do.</p><p>“Thank you for your company, my friend.” He firms his resolve and motions to stand. “... Then—”</p><p>“Wait.”</p><p>He pauses at the word. Altair isn’t looking at him—his gaze rests on the ground before them, a pensive expression on his face.</p><p>“Is aught amiss?”</p><p>He tilts his head as he tries to better gauge Altair’s expression, but the other man looks away, a hand coming up to his head. The Exarch frowns—though <em> he </em> is assured in its conclusion, the journey has not been kind to Altair.</p><p>
  <em> I’m sorry. It will all end soon. </em>
</p><p>After a moment more of silence, Altair takes a steady breath. “Could you spare a moment…” A pause. “I have something to say.”</p><p>“Of course,” the Exarch says, settling back down next to him. He smiles, encouraging. “Did I not say so before? Should you have any worries or thoughts you wish to share, I am more than willing to lend an ear.”</p><p>Altair almost looks surprised by the statement. But it makes it no less true—he has always wanted to be someone he could rely on, whether now or in the past.</p><p>(He remembers when he was still simply G’raha Tia, following the hero he had heard much about, poking his nose into business not his own. In comparison to how lively Altair is now, when G’raha had met him, the man had been… reticent, in comparison. Quiet.</p><p>Which had meant that G’raha had been ever more determined to find a way past that stoic attitude, to see who he was beyond the tales of his heroism, beyond the seemingly impenetrable wall he had built between himself and others. G’raha had wanted to be the warrior’s friend even then.</p><p>So he had been understandably shocked when, upon finally reaching that penultimate moment of introduction, at last meeting Eorzea’s hero face-to-face in Saint Coinach’s Find...</p><p>The Warrior of Light, he who felled primal and empire both, the hero of the ages… took one look at G’raha Tia and cried.</p><p>It had been a strange sight, his expression not twitching an ilm, yet with tears trailing down his face. G’raha had been flustered, confused, and even more so when Altair had mirrored the shock as though he hadn’t even realized his state. Later he learned that it had been a result of the Echo—though what it was that distressed him, even Altair did not know.</p><p>From there, it didn’t take long for G’raha Tia to realize that the idolized Warrior of Light was rather different from the man behind the deeds of Eorzea’s hero—or more particularly, that there was much and more than simply the hero as he was known to most. And G’raha grew to know Altair, the person, rather than the hero alone.</p><p>That the hero had both an interest and hidden affinity in magitek, that he had a preference for spicy food over sweet, that he tended to prefer sleeping under the stars rather than in the shelter of buildings...</p><p>That Altair’s smile, when honest, was so affectionate and <em> warm </em>… G’raha Tia learned of all of this.)</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>He is pulled out of his reminiscing at the quietly spoken response. The smile Altair wears is but a small shift in his expression, his eyes creasing at the corners slightly, but the warmth there is as present as the comfort of a hearthfire.</p><p>The Exarch drags his gaze away, hoping the shade of his hood sufficiently hides his face. He glances back when he hears a quiet hum.</p><p>“I appreciate it, though I’m not sure how to approach this.”</p><p>“My friend, you are free to speak whatever weighs on your mind if you wish. I would never judge you negatively for your woes.”</p><p>Altair shakes his head. “That’s not—well, that’s not <em> exactly </em> the problem.”</p><p>The Exarch opens his mouth to ask, but before he can voice his thoughts, Altair lifts a hand towards him, palm up.</p><p>“Give me your hand.”</p><p>He wonders at the reason for a moment, though more out of curiosity than anything else. In the time he has come to know Altair as G’raha Tia and the Crystal Exarch both, he has learned that, though he may do things that the reasons for which are not always readily apparent, they are never with malicious aim.</p><p>(And that’s to say nothing of his trust in Altair.)</p><p>So he complies without much thought to the request, glancing to gauge the other’s expression before lightly placing his hand in Altair’s.</p><p>Then he watches as Altair grasps his hand in his, guiding their joined hands to rest between them.</p><p>He stares. “... Not that I am against it, but if you wouldn’t mind my asking…?”</p><p>“Why? I felt like it.” Altair grins. “Also, it’s easier to make sure you don’t run away.”</p><p><em> I wouldn’t run. Not from you. </em> The Exarch clears his throat. “... Running away would be rather contrary to my intentions. Did I not say I would listen?”</p><p>“You did. But in the time I’ve gotten to know you, I feel that you may be somewhat like me when it comes to certain things.” Altair hums, “As in, sometimes I avoid having conversations I don’t want to have. And I rationalize it by busying myself with other, <em> more important </em> things.”</p><p><em> That’s rather ominous. </em> The last part of the statement is said with a note of… something. The Exarch turns the words over in his mind. “More important things?”</p><p>“Like saving the world. That’s rather important. It’s just that we need to confront the smaller issues, too. Saying, ‘this takes precedence’ can’t become an excuse to avoid dealing with another problem altogether.”</p><p>Nothing about Altair’s tone or inflection makes his words a pointed comment, but the Exarch finds himself repressing a wince. Mayhap the comparison has some merit. Though it is with the hope of a better future for the Source and this shard, he knows well enough that he has the habit of throwing himself into his plans and research. Lyna, in her own ways, has expressed her worry about this on more than one occasion. And there’s the expected conclusion to his plan as well…</p><p>That isn’t to say the comparison is entirely accurate. He has his reasons, and if he had any other option... if there was any other possibility to accomplish his goal without sacrifice, he would… </p><p><em> ‘Would</em>,’ being the operating word. There’s no point dwelling on it.</p><p>“... I did notice that the others make a point to not pry too deeply into your past,” he says instead.</p><p>And he did notice. As G’raha Tia, he had known personally as well—though he had been wont to stick his nose in business not his own anyroad, his curiosity perhaps even piqued due to the fact… it was only due to his persistence that he had gotten to know Altair at all. But even G’raha Tia had noticed the boundaries regarding certain topics.</p><p>Altair huffs a laugh. “Yes, and I do believe some things shouldn’t be pushed. I figured you had your reasons, so I tried to respect that, but while we’re on the topic of grand confessions… I thought we should talk.”</p><p><em> Grand confessions, </em> he thinks with wry humor. <em> If only you knew the accuracy of your statement. </em> “For all that you have said you would speak of what’s on your mind, I cannot help but notice you have yet to actually do so.” He replays his words in his mind. “I—<em>not</em>, that I wish to pressure you, mind, but I can’t help but worry you are falling to that habit you mentioned…”</p><p>“Hah, I suppose so. Though it’s less that I’m deliberately avoiding the point... I’m not even sure where to begin.”</p><p>Altair rests his chin on his free hand, his elbow propped on a knee as his countenance flickers through several micro-expressions betraying his conflict. It has been a while since the Exarch has seen him in this sort of setting, close enough to see the more minute tells of the other man. The last time they had sat together like this, G’raha Tia teasing conversation out of the Warrior of Light, Altair observing in his silent manner... It has been over a century since then. Over three, if he counts the time he slept away in the tower.</p><p>Not nearly so long for Altair, but even in the few years it has been to him, it is clear to the Exarch that he has changed. They both have.</p><p>It still feels almost natural to tilt his head with a grin and say, “Mayhap the <em> beginning </em> would suffice?” </p><p>For a moment, he fears he has made a mistake. Acted too flippant, too close, too much like <em> G’raha Tia</em>. It’s almost easy to feel as though he had somehow returned to those times like this, in this moment. But the worries are swept away as Altair tilts his head back and <em> laughs. </em></p><p>“You too?” Altair presses his free hand to his chest in feigned shock. “Alisaie gives me enough grief about my ‘inability to get to the point’, to think that even <em> you </em> would tease me like this… I get no respect. I thought I was the hero you had been searching for all this time.”</p><p>Even knowing the warrior’s tendency to joke, the Exarch jolts. “I—well, of course you are. I don’t mean to be—” too familiar? They are sitting here <em> holding hands. </em> “—that is to say, I only have the greatest of respect for you, it was—“</p><p>He sees the warmth and, <em> something, </em> reflected in Altair’s eyes as he watches him, and the Exarch’s jaw closes with a click. If his face was red before, it is practically aflame, now. Twelve, he had started <em> rambling. </em></p><p>“Please, I was joking, of course I don’t mind. I’m rather glad that you’re comfortable enough to tease me like the others.” Altair’s hand squeezes his, thumb brushing over his in a way that makes words turn to an incomprehensible jumble in his mind. Or more of one, at any rate. “Rather, I wonder if the citizens of the Crystarium have been as privileged as myself to see this side of the Crystal Exarch?”</p><p>“... Of course not,” he murmurs. “The leader of the Crystarium is to be a reliable man they can look to for guidance, not a stammering fool.”</p><p>“Really? I’m honored.”</p><p>“A rather <em> dubious </em> honor, if so.” Truly.</p><p>Altair nudges him. “Everyone has a side they don’t show to just anyone, right? Be they leader, hero, or wanderer, it’s only natural that they behave differently with strangers than they would with friends. I <em> am </em> honored to be someone you trust.”</p><p>It’s true enough. They settle into a brief silence that might have been comfortable if the Exarch’s face were not still burning.</p><p>“... I’ve done enough dodging the subject, though.” Altair turns to look at him, his eyes taking on a considering glint. “The ‘beginning’... I guess I could make it a story like you did.”</p><p>Something in the statement gives the Exarch pause, but he silently nods.</p><p>“First… When the other Scions started collapsing, all the way up to the moment it was finally my turn... I decided that if I ever met who was responsible, I would punch them in the face.” As the Exarch clears his throat, Altair smiles. “As you know, that didn’t happen.”</p><p>“... I cannot say you wouldn’t have been justified,” the Exarch says quietly. “After all, had it not been for mine own blunders, the others would not be trapped here as they are.”</p><p>It’s a truth that weighs heavily on his conscience, even despite knowing that their summoning will be reversed with his death.</p><p>Altair’s smile falters at his words, and the Exarch feels its loss. “It wasn’t your intention to trap them.”</p><p>Of course not. “But trap them I did, regardless of the fact that it was not intended.” </p><p>“You…” A pause. “... Leading up to the moment I ended up in the First, it did seem like it was someone targeting the scions. And in a way, it was. But it turned out it wasn’t with the malicious intent I assumed. You were reaching out to me. You did so in the hopes of saving the Source and the First both.”</p><p>Though it is not phrased as a question, there’s a firmness to his words that urge the Exarch to answer. “Yes?”</p><p>“Even if the events leading to my arrival here weren't the greatest, we talked, and I realized I could trust you after I had confirmed your intentions.”</p><p>He did wonder, and still does wonder, why Altair had been so calm regarding his friends’ situations. He had been guarded at first, but after the Exarch had explained what occurred… Surely that shouldn’t have been enough to trust an otherwise stranger that had dragged him into another shard? He had every right to be angered, to distrust him.</p><p>“... That is true,” he says eventually. “Though I feel I should state that my words are not meant to disparage myself—it is simply a matter of my understanding the weight of my actions. And I fully intend on rectifying them.”</p><p>He tries to give Altair a reassuring look. By the persisting frown on the other man’s face, it doesn’t seem to work… though his hood likely isn’t helping.</p><p>He smiles. “But please, go on. I did not mean to interrupt you. I’m rather curious how this relates to what you wished to tell me, as I do not believe reminiscing about my, <em> less than laudable </em> introduction was your goal…”</p><p>“No, of course not.” Altair replies after a moment, shaking his head. “It’s… before you brought me here. I had this friend. Our first meeting wasn’t too great, either—it’s a fond memory, and even at the time I had thought it amusing. But I hadn’t exactly been in the best mood, so when I had been sent on a wild chase at the whims of a stranger, I decided that if I met them…” He lifts a fist, “I, ah, might punch them in the face.”</p><p>He grins as the Exarch stifles a chuckle. “Hm? Something to say?”</p><p>“Only that I see the connection now. And I wonder if the Warrior of Light is always so prone to meeting his problems with a fist… I’ve heard of swords, staves, lances, and more, but I’ve never heard of primals being felled with bare fists.”</p><p>“With good reason. While I can defend myself well enough if disarmed, I’m no pugilist. Without a weapon, Lyse—another friend of mine—would send my arse into next week.” He shakes his head. “But, back to my friend. When I finally met that person, I knew he hadn’t meant any harm. And after reflecting on the whole event, I realized… it was fun.</p><p>“He was eccentric, nosy, competitive… I might have considered certain antics of his annoying, once, but.” He grins, the corner of his lips lifting into a sharp smirk. “Thinking about it now, he was a bit cute?”</p><p>The Exarch is quiet. <em> He left quite the impression on you, </em> he thinks a touch wistfully. “... Your friend sounds like quite the character.”</p><p>Altair’s smile softens with obvious affection. “That’s one way to put it.”</p><p>He almost wants to ask who it is. <em> Who is this friend that left such a deep impact on you? </em> But he withholds the urge so that Altair can continue with his tale uninterrupted.</p><p>“But see, that friend did something. Again, only with good intentions, but he didn’t warn anyone about his plans. If we hadn’t realized what he planned, I wouldn’t have had the chance to even say goodbye. One moment, he was there, and then the next, he was gone.”</p><p>Altair takes a breath. “Locked away, awaiting a distant future.”</p><p>Oh.</p><p>“I told myself that if I saw that friend again—<em>when </em> I saw that friend again… I wouldn’t punch him in the face, of course, but I’d shake him, ask him why. I’d ask for an answer.” Altair tilts his head in his direction. “But do you know what the common thread is in these examples?”</p><p>The Exarch’s mouth opens silently, words failing him.</p><p>“I never followed through with my threat.” Altair glances away, “I mean, the first time, besides the fact that I’d rather <em> not </em> resort to immediate violence when possible, I realized he meant well. The second time was because, even believing that we would meet again, there was still the doubt. That, ‘what if’, and I didn’t want what could possibly be our last meeting to end like that. I wanted to see my friend off with the knowledge that I supported his decision. And the last time... even when I met that friend again, he acted like we were strangers.”</p><p>He leans back, his head tilted upwards. “I still wanted to trust him, of course. Besides keeping his secrets, which I figured he had reasons for, he gave me no reason to believe his intentions were malicious. But ever since I realized the Light was corrupting me, the same question has been stuck in my head. It’s not that I no longer trust him, but everything I know, just… doesn’t make sense with what context I have. And I think I’d like an answer, now.”</p><p>A beat of silence passes between them. Altair looks at him, then, gaze piercing. “Why did you keep everything hidden?”</p><p>The Exarch knows exactly why Altair wanted to make sure he didn’t run away.</p><p>As Altair spoke of the <em> future</em>, he had been quickly putting together the pieces of what he said, the <em> implications </em> of his words, but even then… The realization, the possibility of it all.</p><p>Everything being laid bare like that. It’s too much.</p><p>The Exarch opens his mouth to reply. Through the turbulence within his mind, all he manages to get out is a weak, “You knew…?”</p><p>When he sees Altair’s brow furrow, he makes a vague gesture to himself. “That, I’m.”</p><p>“Oh.” Altair’s expression clears, “Yes, I knew. I wasn’t <em> certain </em> until a short while ago, but I’ve had my suspicions since you first contacted me.”</p><p>“<em>How</em>?” The word is blurted before he can think to hold it back. What was it that gave him away? How long ago did he become certain? Moreover, if Altair had suspected from the first, why did he not tell him sooner?</p><p>Altair tilts his head, looking away. “How… I mean, you weren’t really, ah. Sly?”</p><p>If it were anyone else, the Exarch might have been offended. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“You kept giving hints. If you weren’t so clearly surprised right now, I would have thought they were intentional.”</p><p><em> What? </em> “What hints?” </p><p>“The Crystal Tower was an obvious one. You kept your appearance hidden, too.”</p><p>“Many people hide their appearances,” the Exarch points out. “You yourself had shown up to the Find in full armor and a helm that made you look more magitek than man. And there was no way for you to know if Unei and Doga were the only instances of the royal Allagan bloodline being preserved to such a degree. I could have been hiding my appearance due to such a connection.”</p><p>“Yes, but you weren’t very convincing when you answered my question about G’raha Tia.” Altair shrugs. “You had been rather quick to shut down my line of questioning, too. You were avoiding it. So, that oddity, along with the rest, planted the idea that you were one and the same.”</p><p>The Exarch hides a wince. True, mayhap he hadn’t replied quite as convincingly as he had wanted, shocked as he had been to hear that name for the first time in so long. That the Warrior even thought to ask after him, as well…</p><p>But still.</p><p>“That hardly seems enough to make that conclusion,” he presses. “Without knowing the circumstances, how could you have known that the Crystal Tower here is the same as the one on the Source? How could you explain my coming to be here, changed as I am, when—when G’raha Tia still sleeps in another world?”</p><p>The circumstances that brought him here are as impossible as they were terrible. An end to the world as it had been known, leading to his and the tower’s displacement through time and space in an attempt to rewrite the tragic history that had come to pass… Had he not lived it himself, had he not been as involved in the project as he had been, even he would have struggled to believe the tale.</p><p>“... I might not have put everything together had it not been for another factor,” Altair says after a moment. “The Echo… or at least, my manifestation of it, doesn’t just show me the past, it has shown me images from the future as well.”</p><p><em> … This was not known. </em> Much have tales of heroism been embellished by the passing through word of mouth and interpretation both, each retelling adding another layer that threatens to muddle the truth. But for the hero of Eorzea, retellings of his deeds had all been rooted in truths that hardly needed additions to seem a tall tale. And to add something much like <em> prescience </em> to the list...</p><p>“But we don’t need to discuss that now. You didn’t answer my question.”</p><p>The Exarch wants to disagree for a multitude of reasons. But he can read the line of tension in the other man’s shoulders, the way his tone has gone carefully measured and lacking its usual lilt. </p><p>“I have a plan,” the Exarch says carefully. “... One that requires utmost secrecy.”</p><p>“And just what is this plan?” </p><p>
  <em> I cannot tell you.</em>
</p><p>… Is what he wants to say. Simply from this exchange alone, the Exarch has seen that his suspicions were correct: Altair would <em> absolutely </em> object to his plan. If he hopes to carry it out, he must maintain secrecy.</p><p>And yet, it is also plain that any prevaricating non-answers would also be insufficient. The question is, then, what can be safely revealed? <em> Can </em> he reveal anything without it leading to the complete unveiling—and thus, unraveling—of his plan?</p><p>As he frantically deliberates the options, Altair hums. “The thing is, I actually had another vision just a little while ago. And I saw a rather… <em> concerning </em> series of events.”</p><p>The quietly pooling anxiousness in the pit of his stomach quickly turns to dread. He schools his expression into one of neutral curiosity. “Oh?”</p><p>Altair closes his eyes a moment, appearing almost pained.</p><p>“G’raha Tia.”</p><p>The name—<em>his </em> name, though one he hasn’t been called in one hundred years—is as levin.</p><p>“Maybe some things are better off left unsaid. But there are also things that are definitely best <em> said</em>, and I feel that this falls into that category.” Altair turns to eye him levelly. “And… I think I already have an idea of what you’re planning.”</p><p><em> Do you? </em> But looking at the tension in the other man’s shoulders, the gravitas he treats this conversation, it’s very well possible. </p><p>The Exarch takes a breath… and nods. There truly is no other option. Altair will not allow him to proceed as though this conversation never occurred. And if he truly has some idea of what he has planned, then there’s no point in trying to maintain the secret. </p><p>And so the Exarch tells him. About waking up in a future where the Black Rose had killed millions, destroyed nations, poisoned the lands… destroyed life as they had known it. About how he had joined the efforts of what was left of Garlond Ironworks, how they had worked together to find a solution. And they had: travel back in time, save the First and the Warrior so as to prevent the eighth umbral calamity. Save the beacon of hope that had kept life going for so long. Rewrite history.</p><p>And so the Exarch tells him… Of how he knew that the full force of Light would be too much for one man to bear, but that it was their only alternative. Of his plan following the death of the final Lightwarden, to absorb the corrupted aether that Altair gathered. Of his plan to transport himself and the Light to the rift, away from the source and its shards, away from where the Light could touch. To a place where he would die.</p><p>“... A morose end, at first glance,” he continues. “But it is one that I long ago accepted as my task and mine alone. I know my role to play. I would suffer no other to rescue the champion whose star has charted my course, and it would be with naught but a single sacrifice that I could see this tale to a <em> happy </em> end.”</p><p>Throughout his speech, he had kept his eyes down and away. Not out of any avoidance or shame, but rather worry, that his resolve may waver under that gaze. And now, he keeps his gaze on their hands as he awaits Altair’s reaction—an anchor of sorts.</p><p>“... You can’t go through with that plan.”</p><p><em> I knew you would say that. </em> The Exarch smiles, sad but fond. “If there is no other alternative, what choice do we have?”</p><p>When he glances up at last to gauge the other man’s expression, he sees Altair watching him, his gaze betraying his disquiet. He opens his mouth to speak, only to close it into a frown, clearly at a loss for words.</p><p>“... What in the <em> hells?</em>”</p><p>—Or perhaps, not so at a loss.</p><p>“Who’s to say there isn’t any alternative where you survive?”</p><p><em> Every tome and record I could find. </em> He schools his expression. “It’s not possible.”</p><p>“How do you know for certain?” The warrior asks, the crease of his brow deepening. “We still have time. We can—“</p><p>“I’ve already <em> tried</em>,” the Exarch stresses, at a loss. “Don’t you see? I have had over a century to consider the possibilities, <em> re</em>consider them, try to find any and all possibilities to save this Star that might not necessitate the sacrifice. And <em> I found none.</em>”</p><p>Of course he has tried. Of <em> course he has. </em> He has never desired death, at least not in so many words. He, too, wanted to live—he <em> wants </em> to live. He has more hopes and dreams and wishes than he could count, but all of that pales in the face of the hopes he carried with him into the past. His own desires are but minor anecdotes in the face of the future he knows, of the lives he knows he will save with his singular sacrifice, of the hero, his inspiration, his <em> friend </em> that he knows will be able to continue on if he accepts his fate. It would be but one life for a better future for all. </p><p>(This is what has contented him, all these years.)</p><p>“And what if I were the one to die?”</p><p>The Exarch’s heart stops dead. “What?”</p><p>“What if you sent me into the rift instead?”</p><p>“You—you are the Warrior of Light and Darkness, the hero, the purpose of my journey. The reason why the future—it was to <em> save </em> you—“</p><p>“So that I could save the realms, yes, I am aware.” Altair’s expression is blank. “And that’s fine. We all have our ‘roles’ to play, but there’s no particular reason why I must be the one to survive at the end. The other Scions have proven their abilities even without the Echo. <em> You </em> are the godsdamned Crystal Exarch that created and kept alive the Crystarium. Containing the Light is the only thing I specifically am needed for, and that’s mostly due to the blessing. There’s no reason why other ‘heroes’ cannot be created.”</p><p>His tone holds no traces of bitterness or judgment, unreadable as it had been so many years past. That somehow makes it worse. “... Please.”</p><p>“You have already changed much with your presence alone. The fate of the world does not hinge on one man’s continued existence—I trust that you and the others would prevent the tragedies you’ve seen.” Still blank. Not a trace of mocking, or scorn, or <em> anything</em><em>. </em>“Even if I am no longer alive, <em> the future will be rewritten. </em> Isn’t that right?”</p><p>No… No. Not like this.</p><p>The Exarch grits his teeth through the frustrated pressure he feels at his eyes. “... You have no idea of your worth. You—such a sacrifice, <em> it cannot be made—“ </em></p><p>His words are cut short as he is suddenly pulled into Altair’s arms. </p><p>“<em>And that is precisely the point.</em>” Altair’s face is near pressed to the side of his head, and even through the hood, he feels the frustrated huff. “Do not be so quick to throw your life away, not when there may be a chance. No one will die—not if I have any say in it.”</p><p>The embrace is the furthest thing from comfortable, between metal and ornament and armor. But the Exarch feels his frustration loosen, giving way to something else as he hesitantly returns the hold.</p><p>“Do not ask me to <em> kill you </em> when you do not have the conviction to kill <em> me. </em> I haven’t given up on you. Do not give up on yourself.”</p><p>The Exarch ducks his head. What an odd feeling in his breast, that he feels a crushing pressure from within that is both joyful and despairing at once. </p><p>“It… is different,” he says eventually. He much doubts Altair would feel in quite the same way.</p><p>“Is it though?”</p><p>Before he can even begin to parse that statement, Altair continues. “That is… we all have those we love and those we are loved by. They would not wish to be left behind in the name of some heroic sacrifice.”</p><p>The statement makes him think of Lyna.</p><p>He had, many times, wondered with some regret what might happen after he perished. He has contemplated the people he cares for, those he had kept at a distance, and those he had not quite been able to. But he was content in knowing that everything—everyone—would be able to continue forward. </p><p>He remembers Lyna’s earliest summers as though they were but yesterday. He can recall the young girl that had been weighed down by such tragedy that had become unfortunately commonplace on the First. She had been sharp-witted and with a fire in her even then, but she had been young, lost in the wake of tragedy, and he had done what he could to support her.</p><p>But it has been many years since then. She is grown, and a strong individual that is a leader in her own right besides. He left her a missive, and she might mourn him, but she would move on. The Crystarium and her people would remain strong as well, and with Lyna’s guidance, would continue into a new dawn. That had been the extent of his hopes, once.</p><p>A hand comes to rest on his head, gentle but firm. “I can hear you thinking from here.”</p><p>Altair sounds as though he’s smiling, though his tone is wry. The Exarch huffs a laugh. “Your Echo allows you to hear even the thoughts of others, then? You have quite the repertoire of useful abilities.”</p><p>He doesn’t reply right away. As close to the man as he is in that moment, the Exarch can feel the way he stills, clearly thinking. <em> Mayhap that makes two of us that have rather loud thoughts. </em> </p><p>When Altair next speaks, there is an audible frown in his voice. “... If I told you I had a plan… or, knew of a possibility. One that wouldn’t require that sacrifice. Would you believe me?”</p><p>The Exarch blinks. Carefully pulls himself away to gauge Altair’s expression. The warrior is smiling, though his eyes do not reflect humor or jest.</p><p>“... I could wish for nothing more,” he says after a moment, “but, pray forgive my reluctance to accept at face value what would amount to a miracle.”</p><p>He hopes. He wants to believe, and he <em> hopes. </em> But without sufficient reason, hope could turn to disappointment and despair. And he has already spent years preparing himself for the inevitable.</p><p>(Though, perhaps, not so inevitable.)</p><p>Altair gives a wry smile, seemingly having expected his response. “I think the Echo showed me something worthwhile.”</p><p><em> Could it really be so simple? </em> His eyes go wide, and he quietly urges Altair to continue.</p><p>“What I see tends towards images or flashes, rather than coherent events, and things are shown to me as though warped in time. I can only comprehend so much.” Altair frowns. “But amongst what I saw this time… there was the Light, channeled and dispersing.”</p><p>The Exarch contemplates this. “... And you believe that what you witnessed may be a solution.”</p><p>Altair nods. “In the past, I struggled and failed to put the pieces together in time to make a difference, so I admit, the chances are slim. What I saw may not be what I’m hoping it is. But mayhap my problem was not asking for assistance… Mayhap, together, we will find an answer.”</p><p>A small possibility. “... I do not know how useful my help would be,” the Exarch says. “Though it would certainly be convenient if this uncovers a solution.”</p><p>“It <em> would </em> be convenient, and I understand your hesitation. But even the slightest chance may be the answer.”</p><p>It’s a statement that sounds very much like the words that sent him back from a lost future.</p><p>Altair stands, then, smiling as he holds a hand to the Exarch. An offer.  “So… If I told you that there was a possibility. Would you trust me?”</p><p>The Exarch… isn’t sure what to make of their conversation. Or much of anything that has occurred in the last bell. Parts of it echo idealistic dreams he has had in the past in such a way that he almost fears waking up to a harsher reality, and he knows he will have a lot to reconsider in the wake of his plans having been thoroughly dashed. </p><p>But.</p><p>
  <em> “I haven’t given up on you. Do not give up on yourself.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No one is going to die.”  </em>
</p><p>And he thinks to himself, <em> I have ever placed my trust in you. </em></p><p>It is almost seamless, the way their hands fit together. Altair helps him up with a smile that he returns with delicate hope.</p><p>(He is not the only one carrying the wishes from that begotten future. There exists possibility, a future where even he survives to see the new dawn.)</p><p>The Exarch replies, “We will see it done.”</p><p>Hope has ever been his guiding beacon… Surely, even now, it is all right to continue holding on to hope.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>writing altair/exarch is fun bc here we have this avoidant duo that will circle their problems until they die &lt;3 “who will die the problems or exarch and altair” they die &lt;3 give us nothing kings</p><p>thanks to frost for letting me write altair and extractrevengeance for being a sounding board for this fic.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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